For the millionth time, Xander’s face pops into my mind. I curse myself again, but no matter how often I do, it doesn’t stop the ache in my heart or the constant reel playing in my headabout Xander.
My foot has been healing over the last several months, and I finally got a walking cast. The first chance I had to leave New York, I did. Piper and Noah were more than gracious hosts, but I assumed if I could get out of the city where Xander was, it would be easier to forget about him.
But I can’t. He was only in my apartment one time, but he’s everywhere. He’s in my kitchen and sitting on my barstool. He’s in my shower and bed. Then I notice, taped to my fridge, all the notes from the flowers he sent me every week.
The notes always say, “Don’t forget me,” and how much he misses me.
Don’t forget me. Isn’t that a cruel joke?
Through angry tears, I tear the notes off the fridge. I try not to blame him for our situation because he has amnesia, and it’s not his fault, but at this moment, I wish I could hate him.
But I can’t.
I take all the note cards and consider throwing them out, but I stop myself. The lid of the trash can is open, and I’m about to drop them in, but I can’t do it. Instead, I open an empty drawer and put them in there.
I spend the day dusting my apartment. When I left for New York, it was the beginning of summer, and now it’s fall. Bored, I turn on the television and get sucked into a deeper depression, watching Lifetime and Hallmark channel movies, imagining all the things I would do with Xander had the accident not happened.
I’m halfway through a box of Kleenex when my phone vibrates. I pick it up to find a Words with Friends notification that NYSurgeon has made a move.
My pulse increases, and my stomach flips. Xander. Does he remember?
Hope creeps up, and I read the board. “Contusion,” he wrote.
I can’t help myself and open the chat box. “Nice one.”
I’m studying the board, seeing what word I can write when the chat box blinks I have a message. I hold my breath and open it. “Guess I had enough time to figure it out. Sorry it took so long. I got a notification I was behind. I don’t use my phone much these days.”
He still doesn’t remember. My gut drops, and I tell myself to delete the app, but instead, I torment myself further.
“It’s okay. Things happen.”
“Isn’t that the cruel truth.”
Right away, I respond, “Are you okay?”
A minute goes by. “I’m sorry. I’m having some memory issues. Do I know you?”
My heart bleeds more. I debate about telling him, but I finally write, “Only on here. You don’t have to worry about anything you say. Think of this as a safe zone since you don’t know me besides my awesome talent at medical term Scrabble.”
“LOL. You do seem to be pretty good at this.”
“I beat you quite a bit.”
“Ouch.”
“LOL...sorry, but not sorry?” We banter back and forth.
“So, where are you located?” Xander writes.
I almost write Chicago but put, “The Midwest.”
“That’s why you’re so nice!”
“So they say. You must be from New York based on your user ID.”
“Yes.”
For months, I told Piper not to talk to me about Xander, but it’s killing me, not knowing how he’s doing. I type, “Is it hard not remembering things?”
